Chapter 4: The Quiet
890 Words
The moon hung low and golden behind the ridgeline. The sky was dusted with stars like diamonds scattered over velvet. The garden smelled like spring—jasmine, wet grass, the slow breath of evening.
Sofia sat beneath it, legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped loosely around her knees. The stone beneath her was cold, but the air held the last warmth of day—earth scented and full of roses. She didn’t mind. The solitude was a balm after the last few days of forced smiles and shallow conversation.
She’d brought a book, but it lay forgotten in her lap, fingers still curled gently around the spine. Her gaze wandered out over the
hills, where the light spilled like honey and the trees swayed in slow rhythm.
She breathed in, deeply.
This spot—this quiet sliver of earth—was hers.
No rules, no rituals, no expectations.
Here, she didn’t have to be the last daughter of Dakota and Eliza Moon. She didn’t have to smile politely at strangers trying to guess if she was Mated. She didn’t have to be graceful, charming, or well-spoken.
She could just be.
She heard him coming before she saw him—footsteps soft, measured. She didn’t turn her head. Didn’t need to.
Alejandro lowered himself onto the bench beside her without a word. He sat carefully, hands resting on his knees, looking out at the same horizon.
For a long moment, they didn’t speak.
The silence was easy, familiar.
Finally, he said, “You looked like your mother today.”
Sofia glanced at him, eyebrow raised.
“The way you scowled,” he clarified, smiling slightly. “Just like Eliza at your age. You know she’s always hated the receptions, too?”
Sofia huffed a small breath of amusement. “She seems to like them now.”
He shrugged. “Now that she’s not the one being paraded around.” He nudged her gently with his elbow. “Now that it’s your turn.”
She didn’t answer right away. Her fingers idly traced the hem of her jeans.
“I hate it,” she said at last.
“I know.”
“The dresses, the questions, the stares. Everyone looking at me like I’m a riddle to solve or a treasure to claim.” Her voice softened. “I’m not waiting for some stranger to show up and decide I’m theirs.”
Alejandro’s gaze didn’t leave the horizon. “You don’t want a Mate?”
She shook her head. “Not if it’s like this.”
He nodded slowly, as if confirming something he already knew. “You know,” he said after a beat, “your mother scared your grandfather, your dad’s dad, so much he handed your dad the Moon pack?”
Sofia blinked. “Seriously?”
“Oh yes. You’ve seen how scary she can be.”
“Yeah,” she chuckled.
“For a while, she thought she could scare everyone into submission.” A soft laugh. “But eventually, she had to play politics. Just like we all do.”
Sofia nodded, looking down at her hands.
Alejandro leaned back, bracing his hands behind him on the bench. “Luckily, you’re smart and you’ll learn how to move the chess pieces in the game, your way.”
She looked over at him, thoughtful.
“You’ll learn how to choose, to play the game in a way that fits you,” he said. “Even if the Goddess puts someone in front of you, you get to decide how the story goes.”
Sofia nodded, but slowly. The truth was, she didn’t feel ready to write a story with someone else in it or play any political games. Her story still felt unwritten. Undefined. She didn’t even know what shape she was yet. Everyone spoke of Mates as if it were destiny. Like it was sacred. But to her, it felt like a loss—of self, of silence, of space to figure out who she was meant to be. How could she belong to someone else when she was still figuring out how to belong to herself?
“I don’t want to be anyone’s,” she whispered.
Alejandro turned to look at her fully then. His eyes were warm, but steady. “Then don’t be.”
Sofia blinked.
“Be yours first,” he said gently. “Fill your life with the things that matter. Purpose. Joy. Adventure. Family. Let someone be drawn to that. Not just the blood in your veins, or the name you carry.”
Sofia felt her throat tighten. “What if I never want to be Mated?”
He smiled, slow and kind. “Then don’t be. You’re not ‘a half’ waiting to be made whole, mija. You’re already enough.”
The words cracked something open in her chest.
For a long while, they sat like that—side by side, the old tree above them whispering in the breeze.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he didn’t speak again. Just rested his hand lightly over hers.
The sun dipped lower, painting the world in molten light, and Sofia breathed in the moment, the warmth, the knowing.
And for the first time in days, she didn’t feel like she had to run.
She just felt like herself.
- Writer
